


The Bucket Murderer

by gallifreycallsnow



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Crack, Gen, Humor, Sips - Freeform, Sips Plays Skyrim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-15
Updated: 2014-03-15
Packaged: 2018-01-15 20:37:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1318411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gallifreycallsnow/pseuds/gallifreycallsnow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Throughout Skyrim, the killer struck, ending numerous lives and placing buckets over their bloodied heads in a sign of worship to the Daedra. Or, I’ve been watching too much of Sips playing Skyrim.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bucket Murderer

The guards were stumped. 

The first time they came across the mangled bodies of the dead, they were bandits, and – as the guards had assumed – they died in a tragic bucket-falling accident. No harm done, they decided – bandits were criminal scum and deserved to die a tragic, non-heroic death. The guards just moved on to better tasks, such as retrieving those damned sweetrolls the citizens were complaining about. 

The second time was a bit of an eyebrow-raiser. It looked as if a storm had passed through – the bandits were everywhere, and every single one of them had a bucket either on or somewhere about their heads, suggesting their cause of death; yet, at a closer look, none of the buckets had any blood on them. It was all very suspicious, but still – best not to look into it lest a bucket fell on their heads too. 

The third time was when the guards finally mobilized. A couple at an old farm had not been seen in weeks, and so a couple of guards were sent out to investigate. Opening the door to the small house, they were greeted by the horrid smells of rotting carcass. 

And sure enough, there they were; dead, sprawled on the floor, a couple of innocuous looking buckets precariously balancing on top of their heads. One of the guards ran outside and spilled the contents of their stomach. The other stared on in stunned disbelief, associating the buckets with the previous unfortunate accidents that caused over a dozen bandits’ deaths. 

Officially, the guards were on the lookout for a hint of a person carrying buckets. Whenever a trader went by, they were stopped and searched for a hint of a bloodied knife, or cutlass, or signs of magicka burn on their hands. 

They found nothing. 

The days went by – the Dragon Crisis was solved, the Dragonborn had ended the civil war, and Skyrim was once again at peace. The bucket murderer had not struck again. All was well. 

One fine night, when the clouds were sparse and the sky was in its full, unbridled glory, a guard in Whiterun Hold heard a scream. He began sprinting towards a random cave, joined by some of his comrades in search of justice. When they got there, however, it was too late. 

There was a man there, dressed in the blacks and reds typical of the Dark Brotherhood. The guards, beneath their helms, paled. The assassin was dead. 

And there was a bucket involved. 

Panic ensued. The assassin had most likely sought to kill someone, someone who had full access to an unlimited supply of buckets and no morals. Someone who could retaliate to a murder attempt by doing one of their own. And succeeding. 

The Jarl was informed. Balgruuf had merely stared at his guard, who was babbling incoherently about something relating to bandits, deaths and buckets. After the guard was sent home and a mind healer was dispatched, the Jarl settled in his chair, staring uncomprehendingly at Proventus. Irileth tried to hide her snort of laughter. 

“What just happened?” Balgruuf inquired. 

“The guard was telling you about the recent string of bucket murders, sir,” Proventus replied with a straight face. 

“…bucket murders.”

“Yes, my Jarl.”

Without another word, Balgruuf stood up, straightened his clothes, and went the fuck to sleep. 

Days passed. Then weeks, then months without a bucket murder in Whiterun Hold. The guards, slowly, relaxed. The Jarl forgot about the incident completely. But the word was still in the air: the bucket murderer was still free, and who knew who would die next. 

Hjaalmarch. A mage was found, dead and naked save for her underclothes, remains of a flame atronach close by and an innocuous looking bucket slowly sliding away from the woman’s head. Panic ensued. Jarl Elisif was informed and word traveled to Whiterun Hold, where the guards were once again sweating over the mysterious bucket murderer. 

An alliance between guards was formed. They were calling themselves ‘The Bucket Detectives’ and had regular meetings to discuss the proceedings of their investigations. But they were too far apart, spread out across the entirety of Skyrim, and they rarely had a place to meet, all of them together. (Inns had learned not to let them inside as a couple hundred guards did not, first of all, fit inside, and second of all, they got pretty rowdy once they head a couple meads and it wasn’t like you could call some guards on them.)

That was when the Dragonborn, who was a beautiful Argonian hooker by the name of Princess Leia returned to Breezehome to check on affairs. When she was seen going up to Dragonsreach, word spread through Whiterun and the head of ‘The Bucket Detectives’, Whiterun division, caught wind. 

It was in front of the Jarl that the guard caught up to the Dragonborn. Out of breath, he clutched the Dragonborn’s slender arms and began talking.

“Oh thank the Divines you’re here!”

“Uh hi,” Princess Leia replied, voice sounding male. “Uthgerd, what does this chump want?”

Her companion, a rough looking woman, grunted. 

“Dragonborn! I apologize if I’ve startled you but… there’s been a series of murders and we, the guards, have formed an alliance against them,” the guard began to babble. “And we need a place to gather and hold a civilized discussion! I was wondering if you could talk to the Greybeards to lend us their monastery!”

“Guard!” the Jarl thundered. “You’ve forgotten you’re place. Return to your post, immediately.”

“But sir, the bucket murderer shan’t rest!”

“Go!”

Both Princess Leia and the Jarl watched the guard as he dejectedly walked back outside Dragonsreach. 

“…Bucket murders?” Princess Leia inquired. 

Balgruuf eyed her suspiciously. “You wouldn’t know anything about them, would you?”

Awkwardly, Leia laughed. “I don’t – I don’t kill people, Jarl Balgruuf.”

Still eyeing her, Balgruuf nodded. As the Dragonborn turned around to walk away, the sound of wood hitting wood was heard, and the Dragonborn paused. Uthgerd tripped. 

There was a bucket on the floor. 

“Damnit, Uthgerd, I told you to stop moving my buckets!”

**Author's Note:**

> Basically the result of too much Sips plays Skyrim. It’s hilarious, I highly recommend the series. Including his Skyrim mod showcase videos. Of which there are two, so far.


End file.
